Triple Point
by msdevindanielle
Summary: In which Agent Triplett may not be the worst thing to happen to FitzSimmons. Set after T.A.H.I.T.I. and sort of after Yes Men. Old faces make reappearances, and the team is called upon to solve a highly classified problem.


**triple point** · _noun_ · the temperature and pressure at which the three phases of a substance (gas, liquid, and solid) are able to coexist

* * *

He sighed and leaned back in the chair, resting his head on his fingertips. Papers were strewn all over the desk, but he couldn't bring himself to even glance at them. Coulson considered himself to be pretty durable, but the past few days had really taken a toll on both him and the team.

Skye still hadn't managed to wake up from her Quinn-induced coma, and despite Simmons's insistence that she was completely stable and that the GH-325 hadn't shown any adverse effects, Coulson couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Add to that the whole ordeal with Asgard (could Thor really not manage to keep the nasty ones contained on his own planet?) and Coulson was ready for a break. They all were.

He was just about to turn in for the night and leave the paperwork for morning when a call came through on his office screen. He considered declining it, but past experiences had taught him that that was not always the wisest course of action. Coulson heaved another sigh and slowly stood up to walk in front of his desk before pressing "accept." Immediately the worn face of Agent Blake filled the screen. Coulson automatically stood up straighter. Something was wrong.

"Felix. What-?"

"Agent Coulson, I'm sorry to call you like this, but I wouldn't have done so unless it were absolutely necessary." Blake glanced behind him and said something unintelligible to someone in the room before turning back around to face Coulson. "We've got a situation here. Do you remember a kid by the name of Donnie Gill?"

Coulson nodded. How could he forget? May had literally flown them into the eye of the storm that had been created by his freezing machine. "Yeah, from the Academy. I thought you guys were keeping an eye on him over there."

Blake sighed and ran a hand over his face. Coulson had never seen him look so exhausted. "We were. And up until now he was doing really well. He wasn't getting into trouble, he wasn't showing any signs of aggression. Mostly he just spent a lot of time reading in his room. We were even letting him shadow some of our own on some lower-level projects, and _he_ was actually making improvements that they hadn't even thought of. The kid's a genius, really." He hesitated.

"But…" Coulson prodded.

"But," Blake sighed, "I guess we didn't read the signs very well. Last night he locked himself in his room and he's refusing to come out."

Coulson was confused. "But I thought you guys had him in custody. You gave him a room with a lock? Come on, Blake, this is Supervising Emotionally Unstable Teenagers 101."

Blake shot an irritated glare at Coulson, who smiled apologetically but continued to wait for an answer. It was a valid question. "That's the kicker, Phil. He _is_ in an unlocked room. Or at least one that doesn't lock from the inside."

"Then how-?"

"The door is frozen shut."

Coulson felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach. Oh, no. Not again.

"Do you think he built another one of those machines? The same one we saw before that turns-"

"Any moisture around it to ice very quickly? It sure seems like it, but Coulson, _he wasn't allowed any equipment in his room_. He's been under heavy supervision, despite his progress, and the guards say that they haven't seen Donnie bring any parts in there. Unless he was sneaking them under his shirt or something, but from what we gathered from the destroyed delivery mechanism, it's not exactly a small machine. And I know the kid's a genius and all, but there's no way he's had the time or the resources to develop a smaller prototype."

Coulson was concerned for Donnie and his colleagues, but he couldn't really see what this had to do with him. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he really didn't want to be dragged into another problem. Not tonight. "Look, Blake, that's a tough gig, but don't you have people there that do this for a living? Can't they figure out how to…I don't know, thaw the door or something? Why call me?"

"Believe me, Coulson, we've tried everything. The door is not budging. And neither is Donnie. He says he'll only come out if he can talk to someone."

Coulson tried not to snort. He really did. "What, you guys don't know how to talk to a kid? I mean, I know most of your men out there are the antisocial science type, but come on."

He expected Blake to glare at him again, but he just looked uncomfortable. "I should have specified. Donnie says he'll only come out if he can talk to a _specific_ person. A specific person…on your team." He simply raised his eyebrows at Coulson, hoping that he would catch on.

A specific person? What was he talking about? Who on the team would Donnie want to talk to?

Oh.

Oh, no.

Coulson sighed again.

It looked like S.H.I.E.L.D. 616 was going to the Sandbox.

* * *

"I just really don't think you should be going in there. I mean, who knows what could happen, especially with what happened the last time, and honestly-"

"Jemma-" he tried to interrupt her, but she kept rambling.

"Why can't _they_ fix the problem, I mean it's the _Sandbox_ for God's sake, and-"

"_Jemma_," he said firmly, and she glanced up at him with pleading eyes.

"But why does it have to be _you_? Can't you be reasonable, Fitz?"

Fitz tried very hard to keep from rolling his eyes, with little success. "I'll be _fine_, Jemma." He turned back to check his rucksack, making sure he had everything he would need. He was fairly certain he hadn't missed anything, but he wanted an excuse to look away from her anxious expression. "It's not like it's the first time I've ever gone into the field."

Jemma snorted, and Fitz closed his eyes in exasperation as he braced himself for another tirade. "Oh, because the times you've gone in thus far have been _so_ successful? Need I remind you, Fitz, of the time you and Ward were almost collateral damage and the _only_ reason you escaped was because _we_ extracted you?" He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn't stopping. "Or how about the time an entire mountain almost collapsed on you? And honestly do I have to remind you, once again, that _you did not pass_ your field assessment? Fitz, this is ridiculous."

He turned to face her and it took all of his willpower not to grab her by the shoulders. Instead he settled for making very pointed hand gestures that probably made him look like an irritated Capuchin monkey. But he needed her to hear him. "Jemma, stop. This is getting out of hand. Besides, who was it that dragged us into this flying circus in the first place, hmm?"

She looked like she was about to argue, but he cut her off before she could start. "It was _you_, Jemma. _You _brought us here, and I know I complained about it and I'm sorry for that but this is where we are now. We're a part of this team. Now I have the chance to actually do something, something that no one else on this team can, and I'm going to do it, okay?" He was proud of himself. He felt he had made a pretty convincing argument, one that Jemma would have a very hard time refuting. She had glanced away from him, visibly distressed, so he decided to change his angle.

"Hey," he said in a gentler tone, nudging her arm. She looked up at him, and he could tell she was trying not to appear upset. "_Relax_, Jemma. It's just Donnie. He's a good kid who got mixed up with the wrong stuff is all. And…" he paused, looking down at his hands. "Since what happened at the Academy was my fault, it's only fitting that-"

"Fitz, no it wasn't-"

"Yes, Jemma, it was," he said firmly. "I fixed his power source for the atmospheric moisture freezing device, and look what happened. His _only friend_ at the Academy _died_, we very nearly brought on the next Ice Age, _and_ he got sent to the Sandbox as a _subject_."

"But Fitz, you can't blame yourself for any of that. There's no way you could've known-"

"I probably could've though, you know?" His voice had grown quiet, and he avoided her gaze. "Donnie was a loner, kept to himself, was nearly failing out of the Academy because he was bored. Sound like anyone to you?"

He felt Jemma's hand on his arm and forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he looked at her. When he saw the pity in her eyes, Fitz cursed himself for bringing up the subject. He hated it when she looked at him like that. "Fitz, you're not like him. You would never have been influenced by someone like Ian Quinn-"

"Ah, but you don't really know that, do you, Jemma? Honestly who knows what would've happened if I hadn't-"

"But you did," she said, smiling a little as she squeezed his arm, and he knew she was remembering that fateful day at the Academy. The day that had changed everything, really. "And I know you, Fitz," she continued. "Even if you hadn't, you still wouldn't have made the same mistakes Donnie did. You're a lot more honorable than you give yourself credit for." He felt his ears turn pink and chided himself. She was giving him a lot of good arguing material.

Jemma seemed to have realized the same thing because she folded her arms and gave him a stern look. "But surely there's someone else who can-"

Fitz couldn't help but smile as he shook his head. "No, Jemma, he asked specifically for me." He didn't seem to have her convinced. "He's probably just lonely. Maybe all he wants is to talk to someone who understands. Maybe he just needs a friend."

Jemma sighed quietly and massaged her temples. "Fitz, that didn't really work out so well for us the last time."

"I know," he replied pointedly, making sure to keep his voice from sounding too condescending. He was going to win this one. "Which is exactly why I need to go."

She was silent, undoubtedly trying to form a counterargument. After a few seconds, she groaned in frustration. "Oh, all right." Fitz used all of his self-control to keep from appearing too satisfied, but she shot him a glare that told him he hadn't quite succeeded. He could tell she wasn't going to give up so easily, though. "But you're going to be taking backup, right?"

He nodded, trying to calm her down. "Yes, Ward and Agent Triplett will be right outside the room if anything happens."

An odd expression that he didn't quite understand passed over Jemma's face. "Triplett? Agent Triplett is going with you?" Her voice came out in almost a squeak. He really didn't see what the big deal was. Agent Triplett seemed like a pretty solid guy, and he had proved himself to be a valuable asset when they had been trying to get that drug to Skye.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, nothing," she said as she avoided his gaze, her cheeks turning red. "No, that's good. That's good that you'll have both of them there."

Fitz opened and closed his mouth, completely baffled by her behavior. "What-?"

"Let's make sure you have everything, shall we?" Jemma said quickly, grabbing his rucksack and rummaging through its contents, leaving Fitz scratching his head in confusion.

* * *

Ward almost regretted entering the lab before he even got there. He could hear FitzSimmons arguing from the top of the stairs.

"Honestly, Simmons, it's not that big of a deal, I'm not going to need-"

"Yes, you will, Fitz, you can't just expect that everything is going to be sunshine and rainbows in that room, you're going to need glucose and epinephrine in case anything happens to Donnie and an AED in the event of-"

"You're completely blowing the situation _way_ out of proportion-"

"Fitz, I don't think you fully understand that we're going to the bloody _Sandbox_ in order to-"

"FitzSimmons!" Ward interjected.

"What?" they both shouted, turning their heads toward Ward at the same time, who nearly took a step back at their intensity. He would never get used to how in sync they were. Ward simply raised his eyebrows at them and they both looked away in embarrassment.

"Simmons," he said after a pause. "Coulson's asking for you. We'll be landing in a few minutes, and he wants you to help him interview some of the people who've been keeping an eye on Donnie in the Sandbox. He said something about translating…?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Simmons said with mild exasperation. "They're scientists, not an alien species." But Ward could tell that she was a little pleased to be needed.

She began to head towards the stairs, but stopped to look back at Fitz, concern etched on her face. He gave her a reassuring smile and telepathically must have convinced her that he would be fine because she simply nodded hesitantly before turning back around. As she was about to pass Ward, she looked at him with an expression of such anxiety that he didn't need to have a telepathic bond with her to know what she wanted.

"I'll keep an eye on him," he murmured, and saw relief pass over her face.

"Thank you," she whispered before rushing up the steps.

Ward sighed before looking back over at Fitz, who was trying to fit all of the things Simmons had given him into his backpack. Seriously? He was just going to talk to the kid. He didn't really need all of that other stuff, did he? But considering that the last time they met Donnie Gill they had been dodging hail the size of small boulders, he supposed they couldn't be too careful. Still. Ward was a little apprehensive that Fitz would be going into that room alone. He had proven himself to the team many times over the past few months, but Ward still felt responsible for his safety. He knew that Fitz could handle himself, but he also knew that if anything happened to him under Ward's watch, Simmons would kill him. And if Ward was honest with himself, he would be pretty upset, too. He had grown to like having Fitz around.

"Are you just gonna stand there, Ward, or are you gonna make yourself useful and load up the Night-Night guns?"

Okay. He had grown to like having Fitz around _most_ of the time. Ward rolled his eyes but didn't retaliate. He knew Fitz well enough by now to know that he started insulting people (mostly Ward) when he was nervous. He walked over to the box where FitzSimmons kept the dendrotoxin bullets and began filling up the magazines. When he was finished, he held a pistol out to Fitz, who had just managed to fit what looked like an entire defibrillator into his backpack.

"Thanks," Fitz muttered before turning around and ejecting the magazine, undoubtedly to make sure Ward hadn't loaded it improperly. Ward sighed and was just about to tell Fitz that it was fine when Triplett came sauntering into the room.

"Back again. Did you miss me?" he said with a smile, arms outstretched.

Ward walked over to the lab doors and shook his hand. "Hey, Trip. Thanks for helping us out." Fitz waved an arm in greeting without turning around and went back to inspecting the pistol.

Triplett laughed. "No worries, no worries. Besides, you guys seem to have all the fun anyways. Man, I can't _believe_ I missed out on meeting that Asgardian."

Ward simply raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Trust me, be glad you didn't. To be honest, I think we'd all just rather forget about it." Out of the corner of his eye, Ward could see Fitz across the room nodding vehemently.

"All right, if you say so," Triplett shrugged. He paused before lowering his voice. "Hey, listen. I know it's not exactly protocol, but, well…we all know how that goes, am I right?" Ward shook his head. He had no idea what Trip was talking about. Triplett rolled his eyes a little. "Oh come on, man. You know what I'm talking about. She's not, you know, off-limits or anything, right?" Triplett was gesturing up the staircase. "You're not, _you know_…" he trailed off, giving Ward some pointed looks and obviously hoping he would catch on. Ward remained confused until something clicked in his head.

He froze, his heart hammering. Was his relationship with May that obvious? Surely they had been discreet, especially in front of _Trip_ of all people. Besides, things had been kind of at a standstill between them ever since Skye's accident. As soon as Skye flashed through his mind, he realized that Triplett was talking about her and not May. He tried to keep the relief from showing on his face.

"You know, Trip," Ward said sternly, folding his arms. "You might want to actually have a conversation with the girl before you make a move. It might not make a good first impression. You know, with her being in a coma and all."

Trip's face fell. "Dude, that's disgusting." He smiled before hitting Ward playfully on the shoulder. "_No_, man, I'm not talking about Skye! I'm talking about that cute biotech girl you guys have got here."

Ward's head spun. _Simmons_?

There was a loud clatter and Ward looked over to see Fitz had dropped the magazine and was fumbling with the bullets that had fallen out, trying to put them back in.

"Hey, man, you need some help over there?" Triplett asked. Fitz simply shook his head and kept his back to them. Ward nudged Triplett, gesturing for him to follow him outside the lab doors. Triplett looked confused, but seemed to understand as soon as the doors whooshed shut behind them.

"Look, man, I get it, she's yours. Just say the word and I'll back off. I'm not that kinda guy."

Ward was distractedly looking over at Fitz, who still had his back to the doors, but at Triplett's words he snapped his head forward. "What?" he said incredulously. "_No_." Ward closed his eyes in exasperation. This conversation was so weird. "Simmons is not-" He tried again. "I mean, _we're_ not-" He couldn't even finish the thought. "Just…no."

Triplett was looking at him as if he had lost his mind, and laughed. "Okay, man, whatever you say. So…does that mean you don't mind if I-"

"I didn't say that," Ward replied, surprising both himself and Triplett. He recovered his composure and folded his arms again, but Trip was still looking very confused.

"Look, Trip," Ward sighed, trying to put what he wanted to say into words. "I would just…be very careful if I were you. Simmons is kind of…oblivious to that sort of thing," he trailed off, briefly glancing over at Fitz, who was still fidgeting with the Night-Night pistol. Triplett didn't notice where Ward's eyes had wandered, but chuckled a little at his words.

"I don't know, man. We had a little bit of a connection back when you guys went to get that drug for Skye. She didn't seem _totally_ oblivious." Ward looked over at him in surprise. He had always assumed that Simmons was so dedicated to her work that she didn't notice when people were flirting with her. And from what Skye had told him, Simmons was an absolute disaster at flirting. Triplett must have managed to bring out another side of her. Well, in that case…

"Okay, then," he nodded, giving off an air of nonchalance. As soon as Triplett smiled, he dropped his casual demeanor and fixed him with a cold stare. "But if you hurt her…" he paused, trying to come up with a threat appropriate enough for the situation. "You die," he said simply.

Triplett wasn't smiling anymore. He nodded slightly, his hands on his waist. "So that's how it's going to be, huh? All right, I get it."

Ward sighed. "She's a _nice girl_, Trip. I'm just letting you know where you stand. It's courtesy, really."

Trip smirked. "Well, here's hoping I don't die."

Ward was about to respond when he heard the lab doors opening behind them.

"Come on, fellas. No time for dilly-dallying. We've got work to do." Fitz walked right past them and started heading up the stairs. Triplett raised his eyebrows at Ward, but Ward simply shrugged and followed after Fitz.

* * *

"All right, Donnie's being kept in our low-risk wing, in room 537." Agent Blake was leading Fitz, Ward, and Triplett down a pleasant-looking hallway. Fitz was a little disappointed. This was the Sandbox? So far all he had seen of it had looked more like a nursing home than a highly classified biohazard containment and research facility. But Fitz supposed that they probably didn't keep all the cool stuff near the potentially dangerous residents. Still. He hoped to get a glimpse of some of the tech labs before the team had to leave.

They approached a group of people surrounding a door that looked like it belonged on the opposite side of a freezer. Fitz noticed that one agent was kneeling down in front of the door with what appeared to be a hair dryer, blowing hot air on the hinges. Had it seriously gotten to that point?

"No, you're gonna want the highest setting. There's no way you're going to melt that ice with it on low." A young woman with wavy brown hair and startling green eyes was pointing at the hair dryer in the agent's hands, but he was simply looking up at her in confusion. She sighed exasperatedly and bent down to change the setting. "There. Try that." She glanced up when Agent Blake and his visitors entered the hallway and smiled brightly.

"See, boss? I'm making progress," she said, pointing at the spectacle near her feet.

Agent Blake didn't seem impressed. "Good, does that mean you can make me a coffee then?"

"Still don't know how to do that, sir."

Blake sighed and muttered, "How did I get stuck with this one?" He cleared his throat. "All right, that'll be all, Miss Wise. Thank you for your…input." She simply smiled again and nodded, but remained where she was standing. "You can go now," Blake said pointedly.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," she said in a voice that didn't sound very apologetic. She glanced curiously at the Sandbox's newest guests, but at Blake's annoyed glare she turned on her heel and exited the hallway.

The agent holding the hair dryer stood up and turned off the device.

"Anything?" Blake asked.

He simply shook his head. "I guess it was worth a shot, but whatever's freezing the door is able to combat any of our attempts to thaw it. It's as if there's a continual source of freezing power on the other side."

"Did you try using an ethylene glycol spray or liquefied calcium chloride?" The agent seemed to notice Fitz for the first time and gave Blake a questioning glance.

"Agent McCarthy, this is Agent Leo Fitz with Coulson's team."

At hearing Fitz's name, McCarthy's eyes widened. "So you're the one who-"

"Yup," Blake said, looking at Fitz with mild astonishment. "Of all the people in the world Donnie Gill wants to talk to, it's this guy right here."

McCarthy turned and shook Fitz's hand. "Yeah, we've honestly tried everything. We've used every chloride salt we had available and probably every known antifreeze on the planet."  
"Did you account for the optimum eutectic temperature in order to-"

"Depress the water's freezing point? Yeah, and I'm telling you, I've never seen anything like it. We've tried using acetates, we've tried pouring boiling water on the hinges, we even had a few guys take an axe to the door. Nothing."

Fitz drummed his fingers on his chin, thinking. "All right, well he must've been able to recreate the freezing device. Maybe he made one of those smaller pressurized canisters we saw at the Academy," he said to Ward, who nodded, probably remembering the demonstration during his and Simmons's interrupted lecture. Fitz turned back to Blake. "That would account for the fact that your men didn't see him bring in the parts – they would've been quite small and if he's been spending a lot of time on his own, he could've done it unnoticed. Easily." McCarthy nodded, and Fitz began slowly pacing in front of the door. "What I don't understand is how that small canister has been able to continually provide a freezing source for such an extended period of time. Especially considering he would have needed a heavy wattage as a power source. He probably wouldn't have had trouble getting hold of some batteries, but I honestly have no idea how he's been able to use them to sustain the cooling effect. He would've needed a lot of oxygen to make up for the heat discrepancy, and that kind of thing would probably not go unobserved."

Blake sighed. "That's why you're here, Agent Fitz. You're probably the only one that can get in that door."

Fitz nodded, and breathed out slowly. He had been hoping to come up with an alternative solution other than talking Donnie down, because he wasn't quite sure he would be successful. Or welcome. His last encounter with Donnie hadn't been under the greatest of circumstances. He looked over at Ward, who gave him a small nod of encouragement, and hesitantly walked to stand directly in front of the door.

"Donnie, hey, it's uh, it's Fitz. You wouldn't, uh, want to maybe open the door, would you?" He tried to keep his voice low so that only Donnie could hear him, but he had a feeling Donnie knew that they had company. There was a long pause before a response was heard.

"I'll open the door." Fitz held his breath, expecting more. "But only if you promise that you and no one else will come in."

Fitz looked at the agents surrounding him and motioned for them to step back a few feet. Blake, McCarthy, and Triplett did so without complaint, but Ward just shook his head. Fitz nearly sighed in frustration and what followed was a silent battle between him and Ward, complete with arm gestures and eye rolling, until Ward finally backed down and took two measly steps away from the door. Fitz glared at him before turning back around.

"All right, Donnie, everyone's agreed to stay back until I come in. You can turn off the device now."

He waited for a response, but Donnie was silent. Fitz was about to speak again when he noticed a small droplet of condensation on the door in front of his face. A few moments later, a puddle of water began to spread around his feet and small cracks formed in the ice around the door handle. Fitz waited until most of the ice had melted before touching the knob. He shared one last nod with Ward before tentatively pushing the door open.

As soon as he entered, he wished he had worn something a little more suitable for the weather. It was well below freezing in Donnie's room, but other than the extreme temperature, the room looked relatively normal. Fitz quietly closed the door behind him, shivering. When he turned back around, Donnie was sitting on his bed, staring at his hands.

"Bit nippy in here, isn't it?" Fitz joked, trying to get Donnie to smile. Donnie continued to ignore him, so Fitz took the opportunity to look around the room for the source of the problem. The cell was pretty bare - only a small bed, a wardrobe, and a desk - so it didn't take long for him to realize that what he was looking for was absent.

"Where, uh, where's the freezing device?" Fitz asked, arms folded against the cold.

For the first time since he arrived, Donnie looked up at him, an expression of fear and something more dangerous on his face.

"There is no freezing device."

* * *

She hated to admit it, but Jemma Simmons was actually bored.

In the Sandbox, of all places!

To be fair, she and Coulson had been escorted to a small office in a building of the compound that housed at-risk subjects in order to interview anyone that had been in contact with Donnie over the past few days. She was nowhere near any of the biochemical labs, where she had been looking forward to visiting for as long as she could remember. She didn't even know what she was doing there with Coulson. He hadn't needed her expertise at all so far. Most of the people they had talked to just repeated the same things over and over: Donnie was a great kid, shy (but brilliant), they didn't know what had brought on this episode, etcetera, etcetera. Jemma fought very hard to nod attentively and keep from appearing too uninterested.

There was actually one moment in the whole process that piqued Jemma's interest, while they were interviewing one of the only real scientists they had met so far. He had been saying how Donnie had been allowed to shadow him over the past few weeks, and that he had made improvements on a couple small projects that had been on the shelf for some time. Jemma politely inquired what the improvements were, hoping to glean information on what was considered a "small project" at the Sandbox, but the doctor gave her a knowing smirk and said, "That's classified." She tried to keep her face from falling, but this whole trip seemed to be getting more and more disappointing with every interview.

She was just about to respectfully excuse herself from the room and see how Fitz was doing when the kid they were currently questioning said something that made her sit up a bit straighter.

"I mean, I know it sounds weird, especially since Donnie's such a kiss-up, but the air is always just a little colder around him." Jemma fought the urge to roll her eyes. That didn't make any sense. "And there was this one time at dinner when he was playing with his drink, and I could've sworn he turned the water in his glass into ice _just by touching it_."

That was too much for Jemma. She interjected, making sure to plaster the sweetest smile she could on her face. "I'm sorry, dear, but that's scientifically impossible. People aren't able to-" Her voice trailed off as the wheels in her head began turning. What the kid was describing was, yes, scientifically impossible. Jemma had never heard of any records of people harboring cryogenic abilities. But as she glanced over at Coulson, who was looking at her in confusion, probably because she had stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence, she realized that she was actually in the presence of a scientific impossibility. He had been dead, clinically pronounced dead, for _days_, and yet here he was, in this room, living and breathing as if his heart had never stopped. She supposed that if that were a reality, then surely she should be able to entertain the possibility that someone might have abilities she couldn't quite explain.

And it wouldn't be much of a stretch, really. Whatever had injured Seth could also have hurt Donnie. She had been so preoccupied with trying to save Seth that she hadn't even thought about the fact that Donnie could have been hit with the same strange blast that had destroyed the freezing device. In spite of herself, she admitted that it could potentially explain everything. It would account for the fact that no one had seen Donnie bringing bits of machinery into his room, and it would explain why no one had been able to thaw his door. And if all of that were true, and he didn't know how to control his abilities, Donnie was a danger to himself and anyone around him.

Jemma felt her breath catch in her throat.

Fitz.

"Where's Donnie's room?" she asked the kid, who looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

"Uh…it's right across from mine. I'm 538, so I'm guessing 537?"

Jemma darted out of the room, ignoring Coulson's protests.

* * *

Fitz just stared at Donnie, uncomprehending. "What are you talking about?"

Donnie stood up, but didn't take any steps closer to Fitz. "I'm _saying_ that there is no freezing device!" His voice had risen to a shout, and he looked like he was about to start crying or something.

Fitz held out his hands. "Hey. Donnie. Calm down. It's okay. Just tell me what's wrong."

"Don't you see?" Donnie shouted. "_I don't know what's wrong_!" He breathed out heavily and started pacing. "At first, it was small, nothing to worry about. It was actually kinda cool for a while. But then it started getting stronger and stronger, and now it's gotten to the point where I can't control it anymore."

Fitz was still baffled. "Donnie, what exactly can't you control?"

Donnie simply sighed in exasperation. "This!" he replied, and placed a finger on his bed frame. Almost immediately, the entire bed was covered in a thin layer of ice. Fitz stared openmouthed at the anomaly before him. No. That was impossible.

"Donnie, how-"

"I don't know," Donnie said, shaking his head with a look of incredulity on his face. "It must have happened at the same time Seth was shocked when the device exploded." At the mention of his former best friend, anger flashed through Donnie's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with sadness. "Guess I didn't exactly walk away unscathed, huh?"

Fitz simply shook his head, still speechlessly staring at the frozen bed. "Donnie, this is-"

"Amazing, I know." For the first time, Fitz noticed a hint of a smile on Donnie's face, but it faded after a few seconds. "But it's getting out of hand. That's why I need you."

"I don't understand. What could I possibly-"

"Fitz, you're literally a genius! If anyone can help me figure out how to control…_this_," he said, gesturing towards his hands and taking a step closer, "it's you!"

It took a lot of Fitz's strength not to back away from Donnie. "Look, I've never seen anything like this before. I don't know why you think I can-"

Donnie groaned in frustration and Fitz noticed that his hands had frozen over almost immediately. Fitz actually did take a step back this time. He held up his arms, trying to get Donnie to calm down. "But, look, Donnie. You're in _the Sandbox_. You're literally surrounded by people who see this kind of…thing…all the time. Surely they can-"

"Oh, please," Donnie said angrily, and started pacing. "This place is a living hell. It's not like how they talk about it at the Academy, Fitz. At least from what I've seen so far. You still have to have special clearance to see any of the cool stuff, there's red tape everywhere, you literally have to work here for _years_ before they let you anywhere near the 0-8-4s. And that's just the normal agency. _I'm_ stuck here in this poorly disguised juvenile delinquency center, where my every move is monitored. Yeah, they've started giving me more freedom, but it's still hell, Fitz. Half the time they treat me like I'm a bomb ready to go off and the other half they treat me like a charity case. So, no. I'm not going to trust _them_ to help me out."

While Donnie had been ranting, small icicles had begun falling off of his curled fists. Fitz tried not to look too alarmed, but he realized that he needed to appease Donnie and get out of there as fast as possible. "Donnie, I don't think the best way to get what you want is to lock yourself in your room and make demands-"

"My best friend is _dead_, Agent Fitz!" Donnie cried. The icicles were forming faster now. "He's dead, because of _my_ device, a device that _you_ helped create." Fitz fell silent at hearing someone else voice the guilt that had been plaguing him ever since that day at the Academy. "_You_ fixed the power source, which brought on this whole mess." Donnie gestured towards his hand. "So _you_ need to fix this."

* * *

She frantically glanced at the numbers as she ran past them. Some people she passed gave her strange looks, but she simply ignored them and continued on her way. When she finally came to doors starting in the 500s, she ran faster. As she rounded the next corner, Jemma noticed Ward and Triplett stationed outside of a door, along with a couple of other agents. She marched right up to it, ignoring the protesting shouts of those around her, and was about to turn the handle when she felt a hand grab her arm and gently pull her away. She angrily turned to look into the stern face of Agent Ward.

"Ward, let me _go_," she argued, trying to pull her arm free. He wasn't holding onto her tightly, but she was still unable to unleash herself from his grasp.

Ward simply shook his head. "Not a chance, Simmons. The only reason that machine is not freezing this entire hallway right now is because Fitz promised no one else would go in that room."

Jemma sighed exasperatedly. "But that's the thing, Ward. I'm not entirely sure that there actually is a machine. And if that's true, then Fitz is going to need my help. He has no idea what he's getting himself into. Please, Ward."

"Let her go, man. I think she knows what she's talking about." Jemma gave Triplett a small nod in thanks and he smiled at her. She turned her gaze back on Ward to keep her cheeks from turning red and gave him the most sincere pleading face she could muster, the one Skye had been helping her practice, complete with puppy dog eyes. Ward's stern expression softened and he rolled his eyes, groaning. "Okay, fine. But I am going to be standing _right outside_ of the door, you hear me? If I hear any kind of commotion, I'm coming in. Got it?"

"Got it," she smiled, and took advantage of his momentary lapse in resolve to release her arm and turn around, opening the door.

As soon as she entered the room, a lot of things happened at once. She was met with a fierce cold that sent a chill straight to her bones, and she instinctively hugged her arms around her torso.

Fitz whipped his head around and stared at her in alarm. "Jemma, what-" he stammered. "What the hell are you doing in here?" She simply shook her head and tried to respond, but her teeth were chattering too much.

"What's _she_ doing in here? You promised that no one else would come in!" Donnie Gill was standing in front of them both, but he looked a lot different than the shy kid she had met a few months ago at the Academy. He was unkempt, he looked like he hadn't slept in a while, and there was the troubling fact that his hands were completely frozen over. Jemma's eyes widened. So her suspicions had been true. She would never cease to be blown away by science.

Fitz turned back around to face Donnie, but not before giving Jemma a look of pure terror. "Donnie, relax. It's just Simmons. She's not going to hurt you."

Donnie tried to place his hands on his face, and yelled out in frustration. "Both of you need to leave now. I can't make it stop."

"M-m-make what stop?" Jemma asked, taking a step further into the room. Fitz automatically moved closer to her, holding out a hand so that she would stay where she was. She continued speaking to Donnie. "Donnie, maybe I could help you. If you could just let me look at-"

"I said _get out now_!" Donnie shouted, and pointed a finger at her in frustration. His eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen, but he was unable to stop the stream of ice flowing from his fingertip. Jemma's mouth opened in shock, but before she felt the blast, and before she could even process his movements, Fitz had stepped in front of her. The next thing she knew, Fitz was crumpled on the ground, a thin layer of ice covering his entire body.

Everything seemed to stop, time coming to a standstill. All she could see was Fitz, unmoving, frozen. All she could hear was her own voice screaming his name as she knelt down beside him. She needed to do something to help him, but she was shivering too much. She needed to get him out of there. She suddenly realized that Donnie was still in the room and that she was still vulnerable, but when she looked up, he was staring in shock at Fitz's motionless form. Jemma tried to scream at him that this was all his fault, that he had hurt the one person she couldn't bear to see hurt, but before she could say anything Donnie fell to floor, blue tendrils on his face indications that he had been hit with the Night-Night gun.

Ward quickly knelt down beside her. "Simmons, what do you need?"

Jemma tried to keep from shaking. "Uh…we-we need to get him out in the hallway, where it's warmer. And-and glucose. I need glucose to lower his body's natural freezing point. Where's his rucksack?"

Ward motioned for help and soon he and Agent Triplett were gingerly lifting Fitz's frozen body and moving it outside of the room. "B-be careful!" she cried, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice. They cautiously set Fitz down on the ground and Triplett immediately ran to the large rucksack that had been set outside of the room. She tried to tell him what she needed, but he seemed to already know what he was looking for. With expert hands, he filled a syringe with glucose and knelt down beside her. "Is there any exposed skin?"

Jemma examined Fitz's face and hands but couldn't seem to find anything.

"Here," Ward said from behind her, and she moved over to the side as he used a small pocketknife to chip away some of the ice, probably remembering how they had unfrozen Donnie back at the Academy. It took all of her strength not to yelp out when she thought Ward had nicked some of the skin on Fitz's neck. There were important arteries in there. Triplett immediately injected the glucose once there was an opening, and Jemma waited with bated breath, grabbing onto Fitz's hand as the ice began to melt. Her breathing became steadier as she waited for him to open his eyes.

As the seconds ticked by and Fitz still hadn't moved, time seemed to stop again. Jemma looked down at the lifeless hand in hers and shook her head uncomprehendingly. There was no pulse.

Fitz had no pulse.

She heard a strangled sob escape from her lips as she frantically tried to think of what she had to do. What did she have to do? She was shaking too much. She couldn't think.

"Do any of you have an AED?" she heard Triplett ask.

"There's one in the next building. I can go run and get it," Blake said.

"We don't have time for that-"

"Hold on, I've got it," she heard Ward say, and looked over to see him taking the defibrillator out of Fitz's rucksack.

"Hang on, we need to dry him off," Triplett ordered, taking off his jacket and laying it down a few feet away. Jemma immediately took off her outer jumper and began drying Fitz's face and arms. Her hands were still trembling, though, and she couldn't keep them steady. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and Ward knelt down beside her, taking the jumper from her hands to finish what she had started. Thankfully Fitz had only been covered with a thin layer of ice, so there wasn't that much water to remove. Ward and Triplett quickly lifted him over to the dry part of the hallway, and Triplett wasted no time in removing Fitz's shirt before placing the defibrillator's pads on his chest.

Jemma crawled over to Fitz and was about to charge the AED when she noticed Triplett motioning to someone behind her. The next thing she knew, she was being pulled back by strong arms. "No!" she cried. "Let me go! We don't have time- Fitz needs-" she couldn't get the words out, tears streaming down her face.

"Shh, Simmons. Calm down," she heard Ward whispering in her ear. His hands were on her arms, keeping her from moving. He was much stronger than she was, but that didn't stop her from trying to get out of his grip. "Agent Triplett has medic training. He knows what he's doing." She sobbed again, trying to say that she didn't care, that Fitz needed _her_, that _she _needed to save him because she was the reason he had been hurt in the first place. It was because of her that Donnie had lashed out, and it was because of her that Fitz had taken the blast. She tried to tell Ward that she needed to save him because she didn't know what she would do if she didn't. She didn't know what she would do if Fitz-

She couldn't even finish the thought, the implications too absurd for her to comprehend. It didn't matter, though, because none of the words she wanted to say to Ward would come out. She simply stared, tears streaming down her face, as Triplett charged the AED.

"Clear," he ordered. Fitz's chest jumped from the shock and settled back down to the ground. Agent Blake knelt beside him to feel for a pulse. He shook his head.

"Charging."

Jemma was shaking. This was not happening.

After another pause, Triplett shouted, "Clear." Fitz was shocked again, but remained as still as before. Blake felt for a pulse, and shook his head again. Ward's arms wrapped around Jemma tighter as she saw Triplett exchange a glance with Blake and some of the other agents. Why wasn't he charging it again?

"Do it again!" she shouted hysterically, trying to move towards Fitz and do it herself, but Ward was relentless. Triplett glanced at her and Ward briefly, and nodded before turning back to the AED. "Charging," he said quietly. "Come on, buddy."

She held her breath as the machine charged. "Clear," Triplett ordered. She willed Fitz to pull through. She needed him to pull through. This couldn't happen. Not to them. Not here. Not now.

As soon as the shock pulsed through Fitz's body, his eyes whipped open and he began coughing uncontrollably. Jemma felt her knees give out and as Ward's grip relaxed on her, she stumbled over to Fitz, who was looking extremely confused and alarmed at seeing her so distraught.

"Jemma, what's going on? Why are you-?"

She simply threw her arms around him and sobbed, catching him off-guard. She felt his hands awkwardly pat her back as he chuckled softly. "Hey, Simmons. It's all right. Hey, uh, you wouldn't mind if I could maybe stand up now, would you?"

Jemma laughed and pulled away, nodding through her tears. She tried to help Fitz off the ground, but she was still shaking. Fitz managed to get up on his own, seemingly unfazed by having his heart stop for a few minutes. He took in the scene around him. "Well, it looks like I missed out on some interesting developments-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Jemma had thrown her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He stumbled over his words as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. "What the- Hey. I'm fine, Jemma. Honest. It's gonna take a little more than some ice to get rid of me."

She didn't laugh, but calmed herself down enough to whisper, "Don't you ever do that again."

Fitz was silent, undoubtedly trying to come up with a way to appease her without making false promises. She pulled away from him and looked in his eyes. "I'm serious, Fitz." She didn't want him to ever sacrifice himself for her. He was too important. And she would never be able to live with herself if he did.

"Jemma, I'm fine. It wasn't a big deal." He seemed to remember something, fear flashing in his eyes. "Hang on. Where's Donnie?"

"We're moving him to a more secure location," Blake replied. "We need to make sure something like this doesn't happen again."

Fitz nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Um, I think I'm going to have to have a chat with you and your men later about that, actually. There's something about him that I don't think you're quite going to believe."

Blake shook his head in amazement. "Honestly, I don't think anything could surprise me at this point." He paused as he glanced at Fitz, Jemma still clinging onto him. "I'll talk to Coulson about bringing you into our tech building, where you can brief some of our guys on this device." Jemma could tell Fitz wanted to correct Blake, telling him that there was no device, but the prospect of seeing some of the Sandbox's labs must have made him keep his mouth shut. He nodded at Blake, who turned around to give orders to some of the other agents in the hallway.

Fitz looked at Jemma with an almost childlike excitement, but his face fell when he saw that she was still upset. "Jemma, seriously. I'm fine. Besides, I had you to save me, didn't I?"

"Actually," she said, glancing behind her. "Agent Triplett was the one who saved you." Her voice cracked and she looked down at the ground, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I couldn't even-"

Fitz placed his hands on her shoulders and willed her to look at him. "Jemma, stop. I'm here now. It's over." She nodded and he held her gaze for a few moments before breaking away and looking behind her. "Hey, um…thank you for, uh, saving my life."

Jemma looked back to see Triplett giving her and Fitz a curious expression, but it quickly disappeared as he smiled. "No problem, man. Glad to have you back." She tried to express as much gratitude as she could in her face to show Triplett how thankful she was that he had been there.

She had frozen. Well, not literally, but she may as well have been literally frozen. Fitz had been hurt, and Jemma hadn't been able to help him. The thought terrified her. What if something like this happened again? She pushed those thoughts away. Nothing like this could ever happen again. She wouldn't allow it. But she was exceedingly grateful for Triplett's presence. He had saved her best friend.

After Triplett had given her a small nod, she turned back around to face Fitz. She noticed that he still didn't have a shirt on. "Oh," she said, unable to keep her cheeks from turning red.

Fitz noticed where her eyes had wandered and smiled a little. "Yeah, uh, would anyone happen to have something to cover up with? I know you guys all want to continue looking at my handsome bare chest, but I _did_ just nearly get frozen to death."

Ward snorted before handing over his jacket. "Here." Fitz pulled it on and Jemma had to stifle a laugh. The sleeves came way past his hands and the jacket looked like it was about to swallow him whole. Fitz rolled his eyes and glared at Jemma, silently warning her not to say a word. She simply smiled at him, holding back the infinite number of teasing comments she had at the ready.

"Well, guys, this has been fun, but I think that's enough fun for today."

Jemma laughed, turning around to see Triplett looking at them all with incredulity.

Ward shook his head. "Yeah, come on, guys. Let's get back to the Bus." He and Triplett turned around and began heading down the hallway.

Jemma looked back at Fitz, who gave her a smile before stepping a little away from her. Maybe it was the close call, but she wasn't ready to relinquish her hold on him quite yet. He gave her a look of quiet surprise as she put her arm around him and he hesitated for a moment before letting his arm settle over her shoulders. As they followed the others, she sighed contentedly and rested her head on his shoulder, matching her footsteps with his.


End file.
